


i wouldn't change a single thing

by piratesails



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 14:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4482173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piratesails/pseuds/piratesails
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She laughs out of happiness, out of relief, out of the idiocy of the situation because surely, if he’d never gone and gotten himself shot, she’d never have admitted any of this to him. Detectives AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i wouldn't change a single thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lenfaz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lenfaz/gifts).



> a re-post from my tumblr, written in honour of Lena's birthday some three months ago. this was drafted while listening to copious amounts of Coldplay on repeat.

**_in your tears and in your blood,  
in your fire and in your flood._ **

 

“For the last time, Jones, I am  _not_ calling you  _Danger_.” She huffs into her shoulder-mic, an indignant thing, but lets a smile flit across her face regardless.

“Oh, come on, Swan, let a man enjoy his code name,” it’s nothing short of a whine, something that sounds just like Henry when she refuses him ice cream after dinner. She’s standing flat against the back wall of some shabby warehouse in the middle of nowhere, pistol her hands as she and her half of the team wait for his signal to barge in, guns blazing. Really, she just wants to arrest these sons of bitches and finally go home.

“No, Jones.”

“Bloody frustrating woman, you are.” She’s used to this, the banter he always initiates before they make a bust. At first, she’d found it annoying, the fact that her new partner just wouldn’t let her  _focus_ on the job, that he would quip up some ridiculous innuendo or start telling her what he did over the weekend when they should be getting in the mindset for tackling some idiot to the ground. After a few weeks, though, she’d found that it relaxed her, eased the tension that sometimes caused her movements to be stiff. She’s used to him, the pair of them holding up the most number of arrests in the past year they’ve been working together.

“Not my fault you suck at coming up with codenames.”

“I do no such thing,” he scoffs, and she can practically see the mock shock on his face. He goes silent for a bit and even though she’s nowhere near him, she feels the air shift. She often tries not to read too into how well they know each other, how she can _just tell_ when he’s tightening his fingers around his gun and knitting his eyebrows together. (She knows what she feels for him borders on  _more than friends_ , but she’s never known how to deal with that so she buries the feelings whenever they spring up.)

She hears a rustle from his end and then it comes, his voice serious and unwavering. “They’re inside, wait ten seconds and then follow,” the unmistakable sound of a door being kicked open ( _really, him and his fucking theatrics_ ) following his words, echoing through the air from the front of warehouse.

She sets her mouth in a thin line, counts till nine, looks up to scan her eyes over her team and nod at them, and then she’s slamming the door open with her shoulder, rushing in with her raised gun. And, of course, one of the idiots almost rams straight into her in an attempt to flee from the back door. “Going somewhere?” She tilts her head at him, her team rushing past her as she backs the guy up ( _Gerard_ , the right-hand man of this stupid drug ring), gun inches away from his forehead.

One of her guys is behind him instantly, making a grab for Gerard’s hands and just when she starts thinking about how easy this was, her guy is elbowed in the face, knocked to the floor. And then he’s lunging at her, a fury of uncoordinated limbs, and _for Christ’s sake_ , he’s really damn stupid because  _she’s_  the one holding a gun.

She dodges his pathetic attack, and promptly knees him in the stomach in one motion. Both her elbows slam down against his upper back and then he’s on the floor with a heavy thud, grunting out profanities.

She bends down smirking, places her knees on either side of his body and cuffs him with a triumphant hum. She cranes her neck to find that their team has taken down most of the men already, but furrows her eyebrows when she doesn’t see Killian. And then she hears the gunshot from outside and her blood curls, heart picking up speed and ramming a fierce bruise against her ribs. She’s on her feet in a flash, motioning her guy (bloody nose and all) to take care of Gerard, feet practically pushing the ground underneath her as she sprints outside.

She runs along the side of the building and all the way to the front, craning her neck and searching wildly for him, because she just  _knows_.

When she spots him a few feet away from the entrance of the warehouse, motionless on the ground, she swears her heart stops. She’s on her knees next to him before she can even register anything, hands going to cradle his face as she shakes him with a loud and strangled, “Jones, Jones,  _Killian_.” And fuck, his eyes are closed and he’s bleeding from God knows where and she doesn’t think he’s breathing and -

“Hey, beautiful,” he squints up at her, his mouth tilting up crookedly from the side. And then he winces, curling into himself, hand splaying across his left shoulder.

“Officer down,” she barks into her shoulder mic and it’s probably unnecessary because they have paramedics on standby and her team must have alerted them already, but she doesn’t really give a damn. She looks back at him and she can see his breathing becoming laboured, eyes struggling to stay open. “No, no, no, Killian, stay with me,” she chokes out, one hand moving to grab his - it’s slathered in blood but she doesn’t care.

He smiles up at her, a small thing, eyes still as blue as ever and God, her tears threatening to shed. She tightens her grip on his hand when she hears the van pull up behind her.

She’s not sure what happens next, it all somehow blurs together; the sirens of the cars, her hands shaking as she sits beside him on the way to the hospital, watching them wheel him into the operation room. To her, it’s all shades of blue and red and grey.

It’s only when she calls Ruby to tell her to bring Henry to the hospital instead of dropping him at her empty apartment that she seems to find her bearings. She’s seated on an uncomfortable plastic chair in the waiting room, her jacket missing, her heart still not having calmed down, thoughts running to a hundred different directions even though it was just a bullet to the shoulder and she knows it could be much worse.

Most of her team is around her, and she finds that more of the detectives from the precinct have joined in, too. She sees David speaking with one of the nurses and he gives her a solemn nod and half smile when he catches her eye. (She tries her best to return it but thinks she fails miserably, not even being able to put up her usual front for her Captain.)

She thinks she’s been sitting there for hours when she hears Henry’s laughter. The sound cuts through everything else and soothes her. She sighs, running a still stained red hand through her tangled ponytail.

“Mama!” She smiles for the first time in what feels like hours when her kid comes running up to her in all his five-year old gusto. Ruby trails along behind him, a bouquet of flowers in her hands along with what she assumes is a bag of clean clothes for her (she can always count on Ruby for picking up on a situation), and a sympathetic smile on her face.

Emma pulls Henry on to her lap and kisses his cheek. “Hey, kid,” she prides herself at how levelled her voice sounds, “were you good for your Aunt Ruby?”

He grins and nods excitedly before assaulting her with questions about Killian, and asking with a scrunched up nose if he’s going to be okay. She smiles at the bright hopefulness in his eyes and catches herself wondering when Killian became such a big part of her little family.

She smiles, “He’s going to be just fine.” He grins, immediately shooting into asking if he can go say hi to _Uncle Davy_  (her heart warms at his eagerness and his short attention span) and she nods, causing him to scamper out of her lap and run straight into David’s legs.

“Any word from the doctor?” Ruby’s voice sounds softly from her side and she turns to find her friend looking her over with a rather sad smile.

“No,” she sighs, “but it’s only a shoulder hit.” And she’s sure she’s convincing herself more than anyone else. Ruby hums and then hands her the bouquet.

“Henry wanted to get him these, said that buttercups were Uncle Killy’s favourite flower.”

Emma smiles, thumbing at one of the bright petals. “He’s such a great kid.”

The murmurs around her die down abruptly and she looks up to find a doctor standing at the doorway. She jolts up from her seat as he explains Killian’s condition and there’s something about blood vessel damage and a jumble of medical terms but all she hears is the clear, “You can go see him now.”

She expects the whole lot of them to push out into the corridor and to his room but when she looks around, no one moves and all heads are turned towards her. She catches David’s eyes and he smiles at her. Henry is settled against his hip with his little fingers running across David’s badge. And damn her if she doesn’t feel her chest swell when he nods towards the doorway mouthing  _go_. She doesn’t think about it too much, doesn’t want to dwell on the fact that somehow the whole goddamn city knows about her stupid feelings for her partner. She just gives him a nod of gratitude and rushes out, the paper of the bouquet rustling loudly under her fingers as she makes her way to his room.

She takes a deep breath and lets herself in. Killian’s eyes are downcast as he picks at the threads on his blanket, his shoulder bandaged up and his hair a right mess. She finds herself frozen in her spot, teeth sinking into her bottom lip anxiously at the sight of him. He looks up and she swears his whole face lights up immediately.

“Swan,” and God, he has scratches marring his face but his dimples are the only things that stand out.

“Hey, detective,” it’s shaky, but it’s something. She moves to stand beside the bed and he scoots over to one side and pats a place next to his hip. She sits down gingerly and studies his face.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he lifts his right hand to catch a stray curl in between his fingers. She furrows her brows.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you have to go home to your boy.” And it’s so matter-of-fact, so simple and free of any kind of blame that it makes her want to kiss him right there. (She chastises herself, because, really, now is not the time for those thoughts - even if he’s lying in front of her shirtless.)

“He’s here, Ruby brought him by. Actually, these are from him,” she raises the flowers and places them on the side table, “said these were your favourite kind.”

“Ah, the lad knows me too well.”

He’s silent for a while, and when he looks back into her eyes, they have a mischievous glint to them.

“Do you think that I’ve earned my right to be called  _Danger_ now?”

She laughs despite herself, and it sounds like it’s stuck somewhere between a chuckle and a sob and _he is ridiculous_. “You’re an idiot.” His answering grin only makes her laugh more.

“I’m sorry I let him get away,” he practically whispers once it’s quiet again.

“Don’t be stupid, I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Didn’t know you cared so much for me, Swan,” he quirks up an eyebrow.

She rolls her eyes, brings her fingers to run softly over the bandages. “Does it hurt?”

“It’s numb right now,” he shrugs. “Doctor said it was a bloody miracle, that if it was three more inches to the right, there’s a clear possibility that my arm would not be functioning presently.”

She inhales sharply and shuts her eyes, brings herself to rid the images of his crippled form on the ground from her mind.

“Hey,” his voice is soft and his hand is cupping her cheek and she opens her eyes to find him sitting up, bringing his face just a few inches from hers. “I’m okay, I apologise for worrying you.”

She nods incessantly and manages a smile at him. “Just, just don’t do it again, okay?”

“Don’t worry, love,” his eyes dart between hers, “if there’s one thing I’ve told you countless times, it’s that I’m a survivor.”

Her hand goes to roam his face, cataloging every tiny scar with a swipe of her thumb and when she meets his eyes, she swears she sees longing there. Just like that, she throws caution to the wind and surges forward to capture his lips with hers, both hands threading easily into his hair. He stills slightly underneath her and as soon as she thinks she’s made a mistake, he’s kissing her back. And God, she’s wanted to do this for months. The kiss is soft but she pours her hour long worries into it, trying her best to make sure he knows how much she cares about him. She lets out a groan as he catches her bottom lip between his teeth. He pulls back slowly, resting his forehead against hers.

“Emma.”

She nudges his nose with hers as he thumbs at the dimple on her chin. “The whole squad is waiting to see you.”

“They are?”

“Yeah, David let me come see you first because apparently everyone seems to think I have a  _thing_ for you.”

He grins at her with all his teeth and even in his lethargic state and with dents all over his face, he’s the handsomest man she’s ever seen. “Do you? Have a  _thing_ for me, that is?” His eyebrow quirks up and she smiles, moving her head back so she can see him properly.

“Maybe,” she whispers.

He fixes her with a serious gaze and she can see his throat move as he swallows. “Good,” he moves forward to press a small kiss against the side of her lip, “because I may have a  _thing_ for you, too.”

She laughs out of happiness, out of relief, out of the idiocy of the situation because surely, if he’d never gone and gotten himself shot, she’d never have admitted any of this to him.

“I’m going to go get the others,” she decides unenthusiastically, getting up because she knows if she doesn’t she’ll likely curl up against his side and stay the whole damn night. He hums as she makes her way to the door, and then she stops and turns to find him with a blissful expression on his face. “And, don’t worry, we’ll catch that guy. After all, we do make quite the team.”

He laughs, catching his own words being echoed back at him, words that he had said to her after their first arrest as partners. She’d rolled her eyes at him then but now, she finds the statement hard to disagree with. She finds anything about this situation hard to disagree with.

When she comes back to his room later, after changing into the sweater and jeans that Ruby had brought over for her, she finds David exiting into the corridor, shutting the door softly behind him. He lays a hand on Emma’s shoulder and places a fatherly kiss on the side of her head, and chuckles, “About time you two got together.”

Before she can respond, he’s already turned away and walking down the corridor.

She goes into his room to find Henry cuddled up against his good shoulder, drifting off to some story that Killian is detailing about a pirate hero and a princess in a tower. Her heart swells at the sight and when he waves her over, she doesn’t hesitate for a second before lying down on his other side. She makes sure she’s put enough distance between her and his shoulder, just in case, resting her head easily on his chest.

She moves a hand to push away Henry’s hair from his forehead, and finds him already deep in sleep.

Killian bends down to kiss her forehead and she nuzzles herself up further into his neck. His left hand comes to rest on her waist gently.

“Would you like to hear a story, too, love?” He whispers. And it’s nearing mid evening and she should probably take Henry home and let Killian rest, too. But she can’t find it in herself to be away from him right now. And it should scare her, but Killian’s already a big part of her life, already something of a best friend, and it just feels  _right_.

“Yes.”

She can hear the smile in his voice when he starts, “Once upon a time, there was a detective named Danger.”

She laughs breathlessly and moves her head to press a kiss on the underside of his jaw. “No, he wasn’t.”

“Yes, Swan, he was, and it is a rather honourable name so don’t argue against it.”

“It’s a stupid name.”

“Just,” he huffs, “let me tell the story.”

(She doesn’t, stopping him with a poor argument every time he says the word  _Danger_ regardless of its context until he groans and pulls her up with his left hand, effectively shutting her up with a kiss.)

(She smiles when they break apart, “Are you ever going to stop trying to get me to call you that?”

“As long as I am by your side, never.”

She nibbles at her bottom lip and can’t help the flare of doubt that causes her to ask, “And how long will that be?”

He grins at her. “Till kingdom come, my love,” he places a soft kiss on her lips, “till kingdom come.”)


End file.
